Abandoned by the Abandoned
by PeterParker117
Summary: Ever since the war, Daryl Jenkins has had it harder than most. Now, he is not just abandoned by his father, but by his friends.


Abandoned by the Abandoned

Daryl Jenkins felt sick. Was it true, what his friends were telling him? He went through the memory in his head. He remembered the tall Russian and the Koreans attacking him, and penning him down in that alley. He could still feel the burn of the knife in his side. He remembered struggling against the soldiers, and escaping back to his friends. Or did he escape? At the Wolverines's HQ, the weary resistance rested, and celebrated their victory. When everything could not have seemed more perfect, their leader, Jed, was killed by a Korean counterattack. Their was a panic, then another escape from the foreign raiders. Matt drove the survivors out into the Detroit countryside, and halted the car when they were far enough away from the city. Questions had been exchanged, and tears over Jed. But one thing no one had known... How had the Koreans discovered their location? They agreed that they could not have been followed, that was impossible.

Finally, Robert Kitner, Daryl's best friend, spoke out, a grim look on his face. "Daryl, let me look at your back."

He let Rob check the long scar on his back, confused. What did his wound have to do with anything?

He knew something was terribly wrong when Rob turned back to the others.

"That's not a normal wound. They are tracking him, like they do animals," he said quietly.

The others were silent, hating the thought. Suddenly Toni was thrown into a rage. She had loved Jed. All of her life she had feelings for him, ever since their families had camped together when she was young.

"You killed him! You're the reason he's dead!" She screamed, grabbing a rifle and charging at Daryl.

Matt, of all people, stopped her, holding her back. "Can we dig it out?"

"With what?" Rob pointed out, distressed.

Erica protested, "Let's just go!" She had always cared for Daryl, like a little brother.

"We can't keep running," the silent Sgt. Hodges spoke out, eying Daryl.

Suddenly, Daryl found himself speaking, "It's okay, I'll go." Immediately after he said it, he was filled with dread. Was he crazy? But he knew he was doing what was right. He would never put his friends in danger.

Rob stared at him like he _was _crazy, and Daryl saw his eyes tear up. They had done everything together since the 3rd grade, basically growing up alongside the other. Daryl turned away from him. He could not bare the sight of his friend's sad face. He looked to Matt. He would need supplies, at least a week's worth. Deep down he knew the Koreans would catch him, but he couldn't accept that.

Matt did not need Daryl to ask him. He slung the pack off of his shoulder and handed it to Daryl with a grim look in his eyes. Daryl took it, understanding Matt's unvoiced statement. He did not blame Daryl for the death of his brother. He blamed the invaders.

They all loaded back into the car, all but Rob. He would go with Daryl willingly. Brothers, though not of birth. Daryl shook his head. Rob understood. He handed Daryl his rifle, and took his place in the car.

Daryl watched as the Wolverines drove away. He knew he was no longer one of them, he was alone. He stretched out his hand, his final farewell a signal for peace. He saw Rob return it in the distance.

What now? He scanned the countryside, his hands tightly gripping Rob's rifle. The Koreans knew exactly where he was, they were probably on their way to him now. He had to find a good place to defend himself, he knew hiding was of no use. He walked a few miles, seeing nothing but trees and dead leaves upon the ground. He couldn't keep doing this!

Finally, he resolved to climb a tree, and stay there for the quickly coming night. What else could he do? When night came, he tried to keep his guard, but he was exhausted from the previous night's raid. Sleep came easy. He hadn't slept in days, and when he had, nightmares attacked him. He could see his father, the mayor, turning away as Tom Eckert was shot before him. That image was frozen in his mind, the scared look of a cowardly man.

He was awoken by a shout, and a gunshot into the air. He started, looking down below him. A curse escaped from his lips. Below him, a squad of Korean soldiers and a Humvee surrounded the tree. Immediately he fired down at them, killing two. Before they could return fire, an Asian with a heavily decorated uniform stepped out of the Humvee, and shouted a command.

"That must be the new commander over our district," he thought. He aimed towards the new commander, but before he fired, the commander pulled a pistol out of its holster and shot Daryl in the arm. He dropped the rifle involuntarily, his hand shaking in pain. A rope was thrown up the tree and it caught around his body. He was yanked from the the tree, and landed on the ground with a painful thud. Instantly, the soldiers pounced on him like they had done only hours before, but this time, the knife dug the tracker out, instead of in. He screamed in pain as they did this, the tracker was deep between his ribs. His vision became blurred, and darkness engulfed him.

He woke with an ache in his arm and a fire in his back. He felt dizzy, and unsure of his surroundings. The room he was lying in looked to be a hospital room, but he did not see any doctors. The new commander was leaning over him, a scowl on his lips.

"How does it feel, to have caused your friend's death?" He asked Daryl in a broken English.

Daryl lunged at him, but he was constrained to the bed. "You killed him, not me!" He spat.

The Korean shrugged. "Perhaps." He paced the room. "The only reason you're not dead like your friend is for my pleasure. I want to see the look of defeat on your face, the same look your Wolverines cast on so many of my own."

He motioned, and a soldier came in the room, pushing Mayor Jenkins before him. The mayor looked down at his son, his face weary with the look of one who had seen to many deaths in a lifetime.

"Dad," Daryl choked, "help me..."

The mayor started to break down in sobs. "I'm sorry, son, I am so sorry!"

The commander frowned. He motioned towards Daryl and the soldier released him from the bed.

"Stand," he ordered Daryl.

Daryl winced, and stood. There was no use resisting now.

As the commander pressed the pistol against his head he said, "Dad, I forgive you."

A shot rang out. This time, the mayor did not turn away.

.


End file.
